Brothers of the Bird
by Scotty1609
Summary: He wasn't the first sidekick... He wasn't the first partner... But he will be the first to die... NOT OC'S! ON HAITUS!
1. Circus

**Okay, so this is for a challenge called, 'Damian the Youngest, Dick the Oldest'. Don't think there are gonna be any OC's, but there might be _mention _of one or two in the next chapter.**

**This IS a series: How long, I have no clue.**

**I own nothing.**

**WARNINGS: Gore**

The ten-year-old boy clutched onto his father's leather jacket as he watched his two older 'brothers' running around, laughing as the older one (14) squirted the younger (12) with a water gun he had won at a strength-contest. The man called out gently, "Damian! Leave Tim alone."

Damian sneered at his little brother. "_Father_ had to _save_ you from imminent _death_."

Tim made a face- somewhere in between a pout and a snarl- and thwacked his big brother's head, earning him a kick to the shin and a noogie. "Dami! Dami, stop it!"

Bruce rounded over, smacking both of his 'children' on the back of their heads with enough force to stop them, but not enough to actually hurt them. "Damian Wayne, Timothy Drake- stop it. _Now_. You know there are reporters everywhere, right?"

Damian suddenly put on his happy-face for the hidden cameras. "Right, Father. I apologize."

Jason crossed over, his hair flopping around as he ran. "Daddy, can we go to the Big-Top? The show is about to start!"

Bruce smirked, ruffling up the boy's hair. Two bright brown eyes beamed at him beneath choppy orange bangs. _He needs a haircut..._

"Come, Father, we should go," Damian commented, causing Bruce to look at him. Truthfully, Damian looked more like his father than his mother. While Thalia had long, wavy blonde hair, Damian had choppy black. While Talia had green, bright eyes, Damian had sky blue. While Thalia's face was soft and heart-shaped, even only at fourteen, Damian had a chiseled chin like Bruce's, and eyebrows slightly slanted to make him look like he was always angry. Damian was Bruce's blood-child, while Tim and Jason were his legal wards. The oldest of the 'family' wore skinny jeans, a black tank-top, and a black leather jacket like his father's.

Jason. The boy was truly adorable, with his bright orange, sharp locks that made him look like an anime character. The fact that his eyes were so brown didn't help him look any more real, either. Yet, as adorable as the child was, he was so full of anger and rage. Your parents abandoning you in the street at age five could do that to a kid, though. The youngest wore a shirt with a Batman emblem on the front. Yet, the bat was _cute_. Batman wasn't. Black Crocs adorned his small feet, matching the shirt with tiny yellow bat buttons on the toes.

And Timothy was a black-haired with dark navy irises, almost black, with lightly tanned skin and freckles over the bridge of his nose. He still had a baby-face, making him look younger than he really was. Today, he wore a tee-shirt that said, "_**I'm compacted awesomeness**_" which was perfect for the 4' 10" boy. A ball cap covered his (already normally flat) hair.

Bruce took Jason's hand in his right, using his left to keep Tim close to him by laying it on the boy's shoulder. The shy child had a tendency to wander off aimlessly...

They got into the mile-long line to wait. But, one of the circus's clown-greeters saw them and walked forward, stumbling slightly in his ten-foot shoes. "Hello, Mr. Wayne!" he said in a normal voice. "Would you like to cut to the front?"

All three boys looked up at their 'father' hopefully, but the man just smiled and shook his head. "No, thank-you. We'll wait in line like everyone else."

Jason began to pout, but a well-aimed glare changed that.

The clown nodded, smiling. "Alrighty, then! But, you have to at least accept our front-row seats!"

Tim turned and beamed. "Please, Dad?"

After a few moments of a stare-down, Bruce sighed. He couldn't resist any of his 'children's' eyes. "Alright." He looked up at the clown. "Thank you, Mr..."

"Bozo!" the man said with a smile and a laugh. He honked his nose, making Damian roll his eyes and Tim giggle (Jason was simply standing there, beaming. It warmed Bruce's heart to see the normally grumpy boy smile.)

They waited in line for about an hour, and Bruce was starting to wish he had taken up that offer. It wasn't until Tim pulled on his jacket sleeve did the man realize it was their turn to get in.

The lights were on bright, rainbow colors floating all around the Big-Top as clowns preformed an entering show. Tim laughed, and Damian smiled gently. Jason hung tightly onto his guardian's jacket, as to not get lost in the sea of bodies.

Mr. Bozo met them up a few feet away from the tent flap. Smiling ever broader, he led the four down to the front of the stadium seats, right in the middle of the arena. On the ground, while the clowns were preforming, a few other circus workers were practicing. A little boy with black hair, wearing a sparkly green and red costume, caught Bruce's eye. The child was doing all sorts of stretches and flips that seemed impossible for _anyone's_ body- but less a child's.

Then, a red-haired woman and ebony-haired man walked up. Bruce could just hear the woman speaking some foreign language- _Romanian?_- and then, the child gave a high-pitched giggle. It reminded Bruce of Timothy, when the boy was only nine, and Bruce had taken him in. The boy before him could only be about seven or eight- but it was hard to tell with his tiny, skinny acrobat's body.

The announcer- a man in a black suit with a sparkly top-hat and barrel-like belly- came on, tapping his mike lightly. At the quiet shriek, he smiled. "Hello, ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! And, welcome to Haley's Circus!" The performers were starting to sneak off, now that the lights were on the announcer. "I am Mr. Haley, and I am very glad and fortunate to be here today!" The tone suddenly got serious, and Haley spoke, "Now, please get ready for a dangerous, life-threatening act... Put your hands together for Blade and Flame, the twin devils!"

Everyone applauded and hooted as the two dare-devils came on. Bruce smiled at Damian's interest. Then again, it was also worrisome. After all, the boy had been trained by the League of Shadows, and _that_ was cause for worry.

One of the twins- Flame- pulled out a long sword and began to swallow it, while Blade pulled out a torch and repeatedly took in and blew out several tongues of fire.

After about five minutes, their act was over. Jason and Damian were on the edges of their seats, while the more _sane_ child was wrapping his arm around Bruce's fearfully. Haley came back on and announced the lion-tamed, a male named Julio.

The acts came and went quickly: A magician named Zatara (teehee), a knife-thrower and his assistant, Ms. Lindsey and the Baron, elephants and their half-clad female riders (Damian paid as much attention to this show as he did the dare-devils' act), and finally, the clowns. The whole while, Bruce kept an eye out for the little boy he had seen earlier. Then, it was time for the acrobats.

_Everyone_ was on the edge of their seats by now, as Haley came on. His face was showing intense pride as he announced 'The Flying Graysons!' They were the only family to be able to pull off a quadruple flip and come out alive.

The music got quiet, and the lights dimmed to black- making Jason hug his 'father's' arm tightly- and then three or four lights of bright, snowy white turned onto a tall pole. It seemed to be a thousand feet high to all of the children in the stands, but Bruce knew it could only be about fifty to fifty-five. Still, he was shocked at the height with no net.

On the acrobats' pole were the red-haired lady and black-haired man from before. Haley had called them 'Mary' and 'John Grayson'. Their son, 'Richard Grayson', was the child that Bruce had been watching so sharply for.

The music- dramatic and with loud, booming drums- began just as John and Mary did. The man jumped onto the bar, letting do and doing at least three flips before grabbing onto the other bar. Everyone clapped and hooted as John turned on the bar as if swung back, just as Mary was gliding towards him gracefully. She jumped into his arms, both holding each other by their wrists.

Something pricked the back of Bruce's brain, joined by a gnawing feeling in his stomach. _Something's not right..._

Then, John was on the bar with Mary on the opposite platform. The man swung to his son, who grabbed his the bar and did one- two- three- _four_ flips before catching his father's wrists. Everyone stood to applaud the child- especially Tim. He was impressed, almost as much as Bruce. Not even Damian, with his increased training, could do four flips. _That's why the Graysons are famous..._

Then, the boy's part was over. Bruce could, even at such a great distance, see the child's knees quavering with the adrenaline. Sweat ran down his face as he grinned- but suddenly, that grin turned to terror. He ran to the edge of the platform as his mother jumped, and a shout of, "_Mamica_! _Nu_!" could be heard.

Mary faltered in the air, making everyone gasp, but her husband caught her-

And the ropes snapped.

Bruce had just enough time to cover Jason's and Tim's eyes, but he couldn't reach Damian. Even being raised by assassins couldn't prepare the young teen for what he saw.

The Graysons fell down... down... down... The whole short, few moments, Mary was screaming, "_FUIL!_"

Richard screamed right back, "_NU_!" over and over, and then-

_CRASH!_

_SPLAT!_

The crowd gasped, and then- utter... silence...

The first noise came from the child on the platform. His wail turned into a loud, shrill shriek of pure _terror_.

Then, the crowd began to scream. People were running all around, trampling and knocking out those who were too slow. Bones were broken, blood spilled in fear. Damian was frozen stiff, his mouth slightly ajar. Tim had pulled away from Bruce- and puked at the sight of Mary and John Graysons' bodies. Fortunately, Jason was still blind to what was going on. With his free hand, Bruce pulled Damian to face him. The fourteen-year-old gulped, his mouth slamming shut. The command of, _'Don't let Jason see'_ and the next of, _'Protect him and Tim'_ was unspoken, but clear.

Damian nodded, snatching both boys away and pushing their faces into his jacket. He even ignored the fact that Tim's tears and bile war ruining the Swedish leather.

Bruce turned and jumped over the bar. To his hidden surprise, the child was already down and crouched near his parents' bodies, shrieks and wails emerging from his lips rapidly. A clown- Mr. Bozo- and an elephant rider were trying to pull Richard away, but the boy refused to move. His whole body- as little of it as there was- was flung over both adults' bodies, a hand grabbing a fist-full of his mother's blood-soaked hair, the other holding tightly to his father's stained costume.

As Bruce reached them, he felt sick.

It was much worse than he had thought.

Both adults' necks were obviously broken- Mary's an open fracture, bleeding heavily, while John's face was pointed unnaturally far to the left, where his son could watch, a perfect view. Both of the man's legs were completely shattered from the gravity fall, and Mary's stomach and chest were falling inwards from her collapsed ribs. Both were in their own seas of blood, looking as if they had been repeatedly run over with steam-rollers.

Mr. Bozo looked up when Bruce approached, his painted face running with tears, his false nose having fallen off. The woman, in her sparkly get-up, was absolutely _weeping_ as she tried- to no avail- to rip Richard away from his parents.

Or his parents' bodies...

Bruce, completely ignoring the oceans of blood that coated the child's suit, pulled Richard away. Not even _caring_ who was holding him, the child grabbed Bruce's lapels and wept into his now-pink shirt. He kept screaming. Screaming, screaming, _screaming_.

Bruce held the boy, rocking him back and forth, as the screaming people cleared. Almost an hour passed. Bruce looked up to see that Damian was gone. _He took the boys outside..._

Then, a heavy hand touched the billionaire's shoulder. He pretended to be shocked- but he had known that Gordon was approaching.

"Bruce... Let's get the kid out of here. Your boys are by my car."

The billionaire nodded, looking down at the sleeping boy's face. It had specks of blood on it, and he was too pale compared to his deeply tanned body, but other than that- his long, black eyelashes laid on his flushed cheeks, his long black hair falling just to his shoulders in sharp, shaggy pieces, swept back into a black halo- he looked like a little angel.

Two paramedics came in, one covering up the Graysons' bodies, the other attempting to take Richard from Bruce's arms. _Attempting_, was the key word. The man glared and shifted the boy to his other arm without awaking him. The paramedic- a blonde woman, maybe in her forties- frowned and looked to Gordon, who gave a nonchalant wave of the hand. Then, the commissioner led Bruce out.

Damian looked up from where Tim and Jason sat, the latter already asleep. After all, it was practically eight o'clock- almost the boy's bedtime. Plus, he had a very... _eventful_ day. Tim wasn't crying anymore, just looking fearful. He had seen dead bodies before- but never that... gory or depraved.

When Damian saw Richard, he cocked an eyebrow. "Going to take this one in, too, Father?"

The comment stunned Bruce slightly- but he knew it was inevitable. The child already had stolen his heart- and Richard didn't even know who the man's arms he slept in _was_.

_This is going to be tough..._

**OOOOOOOH!**

**You can't wait for the next chapter, can you?**


	2. Nightmare

**Short, but important. Any questions, and please Review or PM me!**

**I own _nothing_.**

**** Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, and Tim Drake are NOT OC's.**

"AUUUUUGH!"

Bruce jolted out of bed, simply out of instinct and training, when he heard his youngest ward's scream. The pounding of footsteps proved that his older sons had heard it, too.

Not even bothering to pull a shirt on, Bruce, in only his PJ pants, rushed out the fancy double-doors of his bedroom and up the majestic staircase. He reached the top in record time and saw all four of his sons' doors wide open. And, he could heard crying and whispering coming from Richard's room.

Alfred came up the stairs in his nightgown and cap, a candle in his hand. He looked much like how Bruce expected a pioneer to look. "Master Bruce, I heard- oh..." The grandfatherly man saw all of the boys' doors opened, then sighed. It was around _that_ time of year- the fifth year. Everyone was on edge around Di. Jason refused to let the boy out of his sight, and had even installed a camera in his belt so that he would know where his little brother was going and what he was doing while he was at Mount Justice. Tim, being the second-oldest at seventeen, took it upon himself to drive Richard to school every day, bring him lunch, and go to pick him back up. Damian just let the kid beat the crap out of whatever he wanted during training- especially if it was Tim.

Bruce crossed over to the room silently, his navy eyes peering in before he even took that final step.

No matter how B.A. Damian thought he was, he had a secret soft-spot for his baby brother. He would poke fun at the boy on any regular day, even get into violent fist-fights with him- that was just how the nineteen-year-old was. But, Tim often took his little brother's side while Jason just stood to the side, video-recording the bloodshed for Wally.

Damian had his 'I'm-worried-not-really-but-I-am' face on as he stood in the doorway, watching with worried eyes as Tim snuggled Richard on the bed. The youngest Wayne ward had no shirt on, exposing his many scars, and was shaking violently, sweat pouring down his face. Tim was rocking him back and forth, whispering gently as Jason stood behind both of the ebony-haired boys, fiddling with his switch-blade. It was just the teen's way of showing his worry- the faster he flicked the knife, the angrier he was. The slower, the sadder. The least rhythmic- the most nervous.

Damian turned to his dad and nodded silently before heading out. Jason followed shortly, feeling uncomfortable around his little brother when the boy was like that. But Tim, ever the shy and compassionate, still sat there, snuggling his baby bird to his chest and kissing his head lightly, whispering soothingly and singing stupid things, like the square roots of every other number, atomic numbers for Zinc, Iron, Helium, and such, and even listing off the countries of Africa mindlessly. That was the thing about Tim- he knew _everything_. Everything that was important to the situation, at least. He had a great influence upon Richard, too- only the younger knew things that had _no_ relation to any _sane_ subject.

Bruce slowly sat down at the foot of the bed, placing a hand precariously on Richard's foot. The thirteen-year-old jumped slightly, but relaxed when he saw his guardian. "B-Bruce..." he said softly, suddenly pulling away from Tim and wiping away his tears. "H-Hey. What's up?"

Bruce gave the boy an incredulous look, and Richard sighed. "I- It- I-"

"The usual?"

Richard nodded silently, allowing a slight quaver in his bottom lip to act out. Bruce closed his eyes with a sigh as he pulled the ebony-haired boy into his side. Tim sat there for a moment before catching Bruce's gaze. With a blink, Tim knew he was excused. As he rose to leave, the older teen ruffled up Richard's hair, causing a small smile to cross the boy's lips. "G'night, _putin fratele_," he whispered, using Richard's first language. For some reason, it always soothed the young teen to hear that foreign tongue. And, sure enough, Bruce felt his ward's tense shoulders and arms relax as he replied, "_Noapte buna_, Tim..."

Then, it was only Richard and his surrogate father sitting there, on the bed, shivering even in the summer's night. Bruce heard the boy yawn, but knew it would be no use to try and get him back to sleep. Richard had the past week off of patrol and had missed training three times, which was starting to worry the Team. Bruce knew it was no use, of course, to force the boy to exert his fury- well, _Damian_ didn't, but that was a different story... And he knew it was no use to try and make the boy go back to sleep- he would allow slumber to take him when he was good and ready.

Looking over at the clock, the man grumbled to himself silently. It was only four AM. He had been asleep for only an hour and a half- _No, Wayne. Don't be such a jerk... Richard is _much_ more important..._

Standing up, Bruce pulled the boy with him. Slowly, Richard allowed his guardian to put a fluffy blue robe around his stiff, shaking shoulders. Bruce felt his heart drop into his gut at the terrified look in the boy's eye. Of course, though, he would try to hide it from _Bruce_. But not Tim or Alfred or Jason- heck, he would cry in front of _Damian_! But not Bruce. Not. Bruce.

The billionaire wanted to slap himself. _Is that what I've taught my son for the past five years of his life?_

Gradually, the two made their way downstairs. Almost ceremoniously, the lights were on dimly- simple, scentless wax candles to light up the kitchen, where the boys gathered. Alfred was baking- yes, _baking_- and was already pulling out a steaming plate of chocolate chip cookies- the favorite of the household. _How long were we upstairs?_ Damian, from his spot sitting at the bar, reached for one, only to have Alfred slap his hand. "Master Damian, _please_ refrain and let them _cool_."

Damian, grumbling, turned to where Jason sat on the floor, an afghan around his shoulders. He snatched up the blanket and used it to wrap his naked torso. "Hey!" the red-head cried indignantly, his face a solid frown. Damian, very _maturely_ of him, stuck out his tongue and blew raspberries. Jason then tackled his older brother to the ground, and the two wrestled while Alfred shouted at them. Tim rolled his eyes as he turned to his book- War and Peace. It was the eighth time he had read it.

"Master Damian! Master Jason! Please stop! I insist, I- Oh goodness! DAMIAN WAYNE! JASON TODD! STOP THIS INSTANT!"

The two froze in a comical stance- Damian crouching with one hand pulling on Jason's orange locks, Jason with both hands wrapped around his brother's ankles, ready to bite down in between them. "Stop _right now_, young men, or you will _not_ receive any sweets."

Instantly, the two were military-line formatted, grumbling quietly as their chins touched their chests, hands behind their backs. Alfred 'harrumphed' and turned- Jason elbowed Damian- "Master Jason," came the warning tone.

"He didn't even _turn_!"

"Bruce had to learn from _someone_, right?"

Richard giggled, his signature little giggle, making everyone look to him. Tim gave a small smile as he put down his book, waving for Richard to walk over. The boy have a slight shiver and walked over, plopping down on the older teen's lap. While Tim stroked his hair protectively, Jason and Damian gathered around. It was ceremonious. For the past two weeks, this had happened. Richard would cuddle with one of his big brothers while the other two just sat there in silence, waiting for Alfred or Bruce to say something.

"Young Master Richard," came Alfred's soothing voice. The ebony looked up to see the old man, his arms out gently. It was _extremely_ uncharacteristic of Alfred to give hugs- not because he was mean, but just because of his dignity and job-holding. So, Richard plowed into the old man, practically knocking him over. Alfred smelt of pinewood, peppermint, and cookie dough. _Weird... But... Nice, kind of._

"YES!" Jason shouted, throwing a fist into the air as everyone turned to find him, having sneaked into the kitchen, bite down on a cookie. "YEOUCH!"

Bruce, smirking, caught the cookie before it hit the floor. Without even glancing at his red-headed 'son', the man made his way upstairs, taking a large bite from the sweet.

"YOU WERE TRAINED!" Jason shot at him.

"What?" Richard asked with a snort. "Trained to withstand increased bakery pastry temperatures?"

"Shut up, Grayson."

…

Bruce sighed as he laid back down in bed. At five AM, he was ready to _sleep_. Now, as he shut his eyes tightly, he knew that _nothing_ would wake him up again until at _least_ seven.

"Master Bruce," came a shaky voice. Navy eyes snapped open, and Bruce groaned when he saw Alfred standing at the doorway. _I didn't even hear him come in... I _really_ need some sleep..._

"Alfred, what-"

Then, he noticed how pale the old man was. His eyes were wide, and his knees shook slightly. Bruce bolted up-right in bed, pulling the covers away but not getting up. "Alfred? Alfred, what's wrong?"

The butler looked up, tears in his eyes. "Sir, you received a call from Commissioner Gordon."

Bruce groaned again as he stood up, ready to go down to the Cave.

"Forgive me, sir, but Commissioner Gordon called _Bruce Wayne_."

The billionaire froze. Then, his eyes slowly turned towards the grandfatherly figure. "What happened?"

Alfred took in a deep breath and, with that one gust, whispered, "Tony Zucco has broken out of prison."

**GASP!**

**So, the conflict is revealed. **


	3. School

**i own nothing.**

**NOT OC's. real BM/DC characters.**

**AGES:**

**Damian Wayne: 19**

**Tim Drake: 17**

**Jason Todd: 15**

**Dick Grayson: 13**

**Okay, I know the ages are backwards, but this is for a challenge called "Damian the Oldest, Dick the Youngest" WHICH IS AVALIABLE ON "YJ CHALLENGES" FORUM!- so jah.**

**No, not _yah_- jah.**

**i went dere.**

* * *

><p>The sun filtered light through the blinds, small specks of dust flying around in the long rays that stretched all the way across the large room and onto the sleeping teen's face. He groaned and rolled over, pulling a pillow over his head. At least he didn't have training that morning, which <em>meant<em>-

"COWABUNGA!"

"AUCK!"

The red-head launched his body onto the bed, straddling his younger brother's body. Richard grunted as Jason leaned forward, tickling him mercilessly. Giggles- not his normal cackle, but real, _loud_ giggles- echoed through the room as Richard squirmed under the older teen's grasp. Soon, the giggles turned to out-loud laughter. "J-J-Jason! S-Stop! AUCK!" Tears were rolling down Richard's cheeks as he laughed, his bare chest rising and falling unevenly.

Jason _could_ be 'nice'-ish.

"J-Jay! St-st-stop!"

Jason laughed loudly, evilly. "NEVER! I shall not relent at the command of the pip-squeak birdie!"

Suddenly, Tim and Damian were in the doorway. Both were still in their sleep-wear, faces of anger on. Damian had a long steak-knife, and Tim had a bat-a-rang. "Dick! Are you oka- Oh. It's Jason."

Damian watched as Tim walked forward and dragged Jason off of Richard's prone form. "Can I still stab him?"

Alfred appeared behind Damian, scaring the young man half to death- "Alf! What the-"

"May I recommend you end that with, 'heck', Master Damian?"

"- heck...?"

Alfred nodded approvingly, simply plucking the knife from Damian's hand as if it were a normal occurrence- which it was. He then crossed over to Richard's side, handing the boy a hot towel. "I suggest you three get ready for your first day of school."

The oldest of the 'Wayne' boys smirked. "Yeah. Go get ready for school-"

"And _you_ get ready for _work_, Master Damian."

Grumbling, the vigilante slunk into the hallway to go get ready. Jason ran out after him. "HEY! DON'T USE ALL THE HOT WATER!"

Richard smiled after his 'siblings', then turned to Tim, who yawned noisily. "Alright, kiddo. Time to get up. I don't want to be late for my first day as a senior!"

The younger ebony sighed heavily, "_Fiiiine_..." and stood, going towards the shower as he fixed his wedgie.

"Uh... Nasty, little bird. Nasty."

"Like you don't do it."

"... Touche, little bird, touche."

"I'm not _little_!"

"No, you're just a dwarf."

"SHUT IT!"

* * *

><p>The three teens sat down for breakfast- pancakes and bacon. Normally, Alfred would <em>never<em> make pancakes, simply because of 'Master Bruce's' fancy diet. But, after the whole ten minutes that Tim and Jason begged and begged and _begged_, they had called in the secret weapon.

"Pwease Awfred?"

Who could say 'no' to _that_?

So, they sat there, eating not just pancakes, but _chocolate chip_ pancakes- and bacon. Not even the _turkey bacon_ that Bruce kept around. Real, _genuine_ bacon!

Richard shoveled the food into his mouth, hungry even with his midnight snack.

"Master Dick, _please_ slow down."

Tim rolled his eyes as Jason and Richard seemingly raced to finish their breakfast. "They're growing boys, Alfie! You've gotta' expect it."

"Yeah," Jason snorted as he swallowed his mouthful of bacon. "Too bad _you_ won't grow anymore. I'm taller than you!"

Tim's eye twitched, and he retorted, "I am perfect just the way I am-"

"Where did you read that?" Richard giggled. "A fortune cookie?"

While Tim grumbled, his younger 'brother's' laughing it up, Damian and Bruce rushed in. Both were dressed in fine suits that hid their vigilante bodies well enough, but still accentuated their builds. Damian had slicked back his hair (most likely only after Bruce nagged him about it for an hour), making the two look even more alike than usual. Bruce, in a rush and not caring about the current diet of his 'children', grabbed a piece of bacon from Richard's plate.

"Hey!"

The meat stuffed in his cheek like a chipmunk, Bruce nodded to Alfred. "Bye, Alf. Gotta run before _someone_ makes us late to our very, _very important meeting_."

Damian scoffed and gestured to himself. "Excuse me, _this _takes time." Over the years, Damian's normal 'fancy-tongue', as Richard had dubbed it at a young age, had toned down to normal American slang.

Jason made an incredulous face. "'This' being... _what_?"

Damian slapped the red-head's shoulder. "Dude, you hit like a girl." Just as Damian rounded his fist up, Bruce pulled on the collar of his jacket.

"Time to go."

Damian growled and made a slicing motion at his throat as he was dragged from the Manor.

Alfred sighed, then gathered up his wards' empty plates. He looked over at the analog clock, clicking his tongue lightly. "You should be going now, Master Tim. Master Jason, do not forget your summer report in Master Bruce's office. And, Master Dick," the old man smiled dimly, "have a nice day."

As the three made their way out to the fancy sports car, Jason sported, "You think he ever gets tired of 'Master'?"

* * *

><p>Barbara smiled at Richard as he walked over, arms laden with books. For such a scrawny kid, the ebony was pretty strong. Jason, his uniform's sleeves rolled up and his shoes ragged and mud-stained (<em>Normal Jason...<em>), walked behind his younger brother as he text rapidly, eyes glazed over from his phone's lights. Tim, rolling his eyes at the red-head, made it over to Barbara first. "Hey, Babs. What's up?"

She grinned and spoke in her honey-dipped voice, "Nothing much." How it could be so high and not squeaky, _no one_ knew.

Richard set down his stuff behind the pillar that the red-headed girl was leaning on. "Hey, Babs."

"Hey, Dick. _Jason_."

He waved a hand at her, not looking up from his phone, and mumbled something that could be considered a 'hello'. She rolled blue eyes, then turned to Richard. "Hey, Dick-"

But he wasn't there. His books were gone, too.

Tim rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Little ninja." He patted Barbara's shoulder with the back of his hand. "Hey, I've gotta go before I'm late to tutorials."

She cocked an eyebrow.

"I'm teaching it."

"Ah. Makes much more sense."

Tim chuckled, then turned and grabbed Jason's sleeve. "C'mon, brat, time for tutorials."

Jason growled and put away his phone as he was dragged away. Barbara turned- and came face-to-face with Richard. "CRAP! Aw, Dick, what the heck?" Then, a blonde girl with dark navy eyes and deeply tanned skin came up behind him. Instantly, the red-head's attitude was different. "Oh, hey..."

"Artemis," the girl said with a soft smile. "Uh, _Dick_, right?" The ebony nodded. "Yeah. Dick said you could... show me around? I'm kinda new here, and-"

Barbara held up a hand. "Yeah. Sure." She held out a hand. "Let's see your schedule."

Artemis handed over the sheet of crumpled paper, and Barbara nodded, taking it all in. "Hey, looks like you have first period with Dickie. Chemistry, right?" she addressed the question to Richard, who nodded with a smile. If anyone else saw that smile, they would have said that it was genuine and warm- but Barbara knew. _That_ day was coming up. And, she could see past the onion peel layers.

Artemis turned to Richard with a curious frown. "Wait- I thought you were a freshman."

His voice was smaller, weaker than its normal cocky and enthusiastic. But, again, only those that knew him would know. "I am, I'm just a few classes ahead..."

"Dick's a brainiac," Barbara explained, restraining herself from ruffling up the boy's slicked-back hair. He only did it for his 'identity'. And Barbara, being Batgirl, knew all about _all_ of that. She knew that this Artemis Crock chick was on Richard's team- and she wasn't sure she liked him hanging out with some other girl. Even if she was fifteen and he was thirteen, she still liked his hair... and his eyes... and his _muscles_-

The bell just outside of the courtyard rang, signaling the 'you-have-two-minutes-to-get-to-class-or-you're-screwed' tone. Richard, his books suddenly in his arms, nodded to Barbara. "See you later, Babs." Artemis, using her student map, started to walk ahead. But, Barbara caught Richard's arm.

"Dick..." Her mouth was open, but no noise came out. The shorter teen pulled away sharply.

"I'm _fine_, Barbara."

Not Babs. Just Barbara.

He was angry.

She nodded with a sigh as he walked away, catching up to Artemis with ease. "Right..."

* * *

><p>Richard sat down in the very back, far away from his normal spot in the front and near the teacher's desk.<p>

All of the other seats were full, besides the one Richard normally took, so Artemis was stuck. She groaned, taking her seat between two football players. Even more self-conscious, she pulled at the hem of her skirt.

"Alright, class," Ms. Kyle said as she stood, her own teachers' uniform tight, but not so tight that the seams looked ready to bust- like the councilor's. Good God, that woman could use a double-X. Brushing short black hair from her face, the teacher began. "Alright, class, since it's the first day of school, I'd like to take this class period to introduce ourselves." She sat on her desk, smiling, and Richard noticed she wasn't wearing shoes. _Casual, friendly, good judge of character..._ his overly-active brain conjectured randomly, part of himself, and part of his training.

"I'm Helena Kyle, but you can call me Helena. And, trust me, keep up in your studies or you'll call me Hell." That earned a few chuckles, and even _Artemis_ smiled, but Richard just sat there stoically, not looking at the teacher or anyone else anymore. He simply stared at his desk, rubbing his bruised wrist harshly. "I know that some of you might feel uncomfortable with calling me by my first name, but _please_, don't call me 'Ms.'" She smirked and waved a hand in the air. "I'm only twenty-eight, and that makes me feel _old_." More chuckles sounded- this would _definitely_ be the favorite teacher. "I just started here over the summer, so you all are my first impression of Gotham East. So... Here's how it goes- I get to answer five questions from the class, and, please-" she eyed the boys in the room "-keep it appropriate." More laughs.

Helena's eyes caught whiff of Richard, and she blinked, not betraying any emotions that could embarrass the boy. "Alright. I guess we'll go in alphabetical order. So, first up is..." She picked up a clipboard from her desk and read off the first name. "Abbey, Beth."

Beth- the kind, smart, cheerleader with blue eyes and luscious blonde curls- walked up and smiled at Artemis, whom she was due to 'guide' (officially). "Well, my name is Bethany, but you can call me Beth. Questions?"

A few questions, like, "Are you single?" and "What's your favorite color?" were tossed around before Helena nodded for Beth to sit down. Then "Arnold, Peter" went up. Peter was the quarterback of the football team- and had been picking on Richard since the ebony had joined the oh-so-kind-and-handsome brunette in elementary school. "I'm Peter." He whipped his almost non-existent bangs to the side. "But the ladies call me _Pete_." While the rest of the females swooned, Helena rolled her eyes and Artemis snorted. _Pete_ shot her a glance, eyes lingering, then grinned. "Got a question, sweet stuffs?" Then, a ruler hit his butt.

"Well, then, _Pete_," Helena said with a half-smile, half-scowl (odd, but _very_ affective), "why don't you tell us about your family?"

Oh, crap.

Pete, smiling maliciously, looked over to Richard. The rest of the football players began to snicker as he began. "Well, my _mother_ is amazing- a great cook, really _athletic_, too. My dad is billionaire, making me the heir of a billionaire, _ladies_..."

Richard wasn't listening though. _It's just Pete... Ignore him..._

* * *

><p><em>Eight-year-old Richard Grayson went to stand up in front of everyone. Even in elementary school, the private facility had different class periods. Luckily, Jason was here. The red-head's scowl was firm- he hated school with a passion- but he smiled gently at Richard and gave a little wave.<em>

"_H-H-Hi," Richard mumbled, looking at his feet. This was a fourth-grade class, not the second-grade science and history the ebony was in. He was in first-grade English, though, to aide in his English. Sure, he could speak it, but he hated to and he still had an amazingly thick accent, or a 'speaking disability' as the school called it._

"_My name is Dick..." he said softly, looking to his teacher. The woman- about sixty and smelling like cats and peppermints- nodded encouragingly. But, still, Richard didn't know what to say. So, she began to send him questions._

"_How old are you, Dick?"_

"_E-Eight..." There came laughter from the class, and Richard ducked his head. Jason turned furiously to glare at the person who was laughing the loudest- some brunette with two other bulky (for ten-year-olds) boys on either side._

_Ms. McCray nodded, grinning with her yellow teeth. "And what are your parents' names?"_

_Even at ten, Jason knew the meanings of the words he hissed under his breath._

_Richard shifted uncomfortably, still looking at his shiny black shoes. "I- I don't have a-a-any..."_

_Ms. McCray frowned, but then tried to move on-_

"_Who doesn't have _parents_?" the brunette in the back snorted, standing up. He pointed at Richard tauntingly, giggling, "I bet they just hate you, am I right?"_

"_Mr. Arnold!" the teacher practically shouted at him._

_But, it was too late. Richard had fled the room, weeping, Jason following after him shortly._

_The red-head found his foster brother sitting up in a tree- yes, in a _tree_. Richard was crying violently- so violently, that Jason worried he would fall out and break a limb or two. "Dick?" he called up, trying to get the younger boy's attention. When this didn't work, he sighed and tried again. "Dick!" But, still, the younger refused to look. Jason growled to himself and, rolling up his sleeves, climbed the old oak with an expert grip._

_He reached the limb just below Richard- the one that the acrobat was on was tiny, _really_ tiny, and Jason began to fear that it would bust if he tried to put any weight on it. "Dickie?"_

_Richard's head snapped up, and he lost his balance- "AUGH!"_

"_NO!"_

_Jason lurched forward by instinct, grabbed Richard's jacket, then lugged him back onto the larger tree branch. By now, the ebony's whole body was racked with rapid sobs. There were twigs and leaves in his shaggy hair, and his elbow had been scraped on the tree trunk- it now bled lightly._

_Jason swore another string of profanities as he pulled the tiny child into his lap. Richard grabbed onto Jason's collar and cried- no, _wept_ into his shirt. "M-M-Mamica and T-Tati didn't h-h-h-hate me, r-right?"_

_Jason was at a loss for words. "Wha- of _course_ they didn't hate you, Dickie!" He gently stroked the smaller boy's hair. "They loved you..." _Unalike my parents_, he thought grimly_, who abandoned me when I was five.

"_T-Then w-w-w-why did they l-l-leave m-me?"_

_Jason was stumped._

"_I-I don't know, Dickie... I don't know..."_

* * *

><p>"Richard?"<p>

The acrobat snapped to attention, quickly blinking back tears. "Y- Yes, M- Helena?"

The teacher smiled gently. "You're the last on the list- Richard Wayne."

Blushing, Richard fumbled to get out of his seat- but his jacket's button was caught in-between the metal support rod and the wood of the desk. He swore and pulled at it, only succeeding in moving his desk. Everyone began to laugh lightly. Richard felt his eyes getting wetter. _Don't be a wuss, Grayson! Just get... up... there! AHA! SH-_

He had pulled his jacket free, but the momentum ended up making him fall backwards- right into the wall. His head thudded against it painfully, and everyone began to crack up. Except for Artemis.

She quickly stood and walked over, but by that time, Richard was up and making his way towards the front of the classroom. Blushing, Artemis sat back down.

"Hey," Richard spoke meekly, waving slightly. "I'm Dick Grayson-"

"Sorry?" Helena asked, pulling out a pen. "I thought it was Wayne-"

"No," Richard _quickly_ corrected. "It's Grayson-"

"Yeah," came Pete's voice. "Richie-Rich here was _adopted_!"

Richard flushed purple and mumbled to the class, "Only fostered, actually."

"Oh, so Brucie-boy hates you, too?"

Helena stood quickly, glaring at Pete. "Peter, control your tongue before I send you to the principle's office."

Pete held up his hands, smirking, and leaned back in his chair. Turning a sweet smile towards Richard, Helena nodded. "Please, Dick, you may begin again."

He nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking at a spot on the floor, though the only thing that flashed to his eyes were his parents, blood soaking their forms and-

"I'm Dick Grayson. Questions?"

Artemis held up her hand shyly, smiling weakly. Richard nodded to her. "Yeah?"

"What's your favorite animal?"

He smiled gently. "I like birds."

She nodded back, returning the smirk with a bit more enthusiasm. _He wasn't this shy earlier..._

A Black girl named Sequoya held up her hand and asked, "What's your favorite sport?" _Easy... Free-running... _"Soccer."

"What's your favorite color?" _Red and green and yellow... and black... _"Blue, probably."

"How old are you?"

He flushed. "Thirteen." The girls giggled, murmuring about 'Oh, so he's cute _and_ rich _and_ smart', and the boys 'I could use a tutor'... Or for the _most_ part.

Then, Pete raised his hand. Richard wasn't going to call on him, but no other hands were raised. So, with a sigh, he pointed to the jerk. "Yeah, Pete, what?"

Leaning forward, the quarterback smirked and said, "What do you think now that Tony Zucco's broken out of prison?"

Oh, yeah, Pete's big brother is a cop.

* * *

><p><strong>For those of you who understand the "Helena Kyle"... giggulz!<strong>

**Any other questions, comments, concerns- PM or review!**

**AND ALSO:::::**

**I'm taking prayer-requests again. If you have something you want me to pray for you about, you can either PM me or review. I don't need specifics, you can just say, "Please pray for me" or whatever.**

**GOD BLESS!**

**-Scotty**


	4. Break

**I own nothing. :*(**

* * *

><p>Sapphire eyes were wide, dilated so intensely that their pupils looked like pin-pricks. No noise came from the teen's mouth, and it was <em>silent<em> in the classroom. Richard's mouth was open just an inch, but his lower lip quavered dangerously. Then, he finally let out a breath.

Poor Helena- the teacher was clueless as she watched the varied expressions of her class. Most of the girls were astonished and looking fearful, while Pete and his group were all smiling. The blonde in the front, though, was _ticked_.

She stood so fast that she almost developed whiplash. Then, Artemis turned and glared at Pete so hard that the temperature in the room almost dropped a degree. "What _right_-" she began, but was cut off by the sound of the door slamming shut.

Richard was gone.

* * *

><p>His breath came short, cold sweat dripping down his forehead and the back of his neck in trickles. Tears developed in his eyes just as fast, and his hands were shaking as if he were an addict as he ran through the courtyard.<p>

Not even the hot sun made him wince. Not even the greenest of grass made him blink. Not even the blue sky made him smile.

Richard stumbled over a peak of glass, then swore as he fell to his knees, scraping up both his palms and elbows as he slid. But, his training kicked in, even with such a loosely inclined situation. He stood instantly, plowing forward. The one part of his training that was _not_ working was his brain.

Tears slowly leaked over Richard's cheeks, and he felt his breath coming fast and short and heavy. He was beginning to hyperventilate. Had he been in the right frame of mind, Richard might have been able to calm himself- but when you hear your parents' murderer had broken out of a high-tox facility... It was a bit chilling.

Then, the sun began to flash bright white lights in his face-

_F-Flashing?_

Richard hadn't even realized that he had reached the courtyard's gates. But, he realized it when he saw the swarm of reporters and photographers. Swiftly, the teen stepped backwards- but he slipped again and fell on his butt, eyes glued onto the reporters.

"Richard! Can I get a quote?"

"When did you find out about Zucco?"

"Could you let us in, Richard?"

"Richard!"

"Richard!"

"RICHARD!"

"_RICHARD!"_

_The boy screamed in anguish as his parents fell. He could barely see his name upon his father's lips, barely hear his mother screaming 'FIUL!' over and over again, as many times as she could until-_

_SPLAT!_

_CRACK!_

"_NO!"_

A heavy hand rested on Richard's shoulder, and he jumped, only to see the school's officer, Officer Parker- a big Black man with a mustache, six-pack, and an attitude- glaring at the reporters. "Mr. Grayson will take no statements at this time," the man practically growled as he hefted Richard into a standing position. The boy's knees were wobbly, and his face was stark and gaunt, his eyes hollow.

Officer Parker, still glaring at the flashing cameras and screaming reporters, led Richard away as fast as possible.

The boy wasn't even paying enough attention to tell when or where they came to a stop- he only walked, tears boiling over and vertigo rushing over his body, into the room. It was the councilor's office. Ms. Stephanie Cain, Richard's alphabetically placed councilor, was standing with her shawl draped over her thin shoulders. The old turtle wore large half-moon spectacles and deep red lipstick, along with her usual floral dress and high-heels too high for any woman in her late sixties.

Officer Parker set Richard down in a chair, and Ms. Cain put her shawl over his shoulders as he curled up into a ball, his chin rested on his knees as he stared at the desk. Slowly, the cop made his way towards the door, shutting it with a soft _click_ behind him.

_Click, click, cli- CLANK!_

_The bolts had been removed._

_The boy's eyes grew wide, and he let out a shriek of terror at knowing what was to come-_

_He tried to look away, but it was like a live horror movie- you just _couldn't_ look away. It was too... too... Tempting wasn't the word, but neither was attracting._

_Definitely not attracting._

_SPLAT!_

_CRACK!_

"_NO!"_

Richard's brain was still fuzzy, clouded with memories, but he distinctly realized he was crying and was wrapped up in a quilt or something. His chest was heaving shakily, and he berated himself silently. _I'm Robin, the frickin' Boy-Wonder! I- I can't be weak... No. Just- just don't think about it. Just don't-_

"_RICHARD!"_

"_FIUL! FIUL! FIU-"_

_SPL-_

"No!" he said aloud, clutching his head and shaking. "No, n-no, no, no!"

Ms. Cain sat back, biting her lip. Richard was a freshman, and therefore, she had only known him a year- but she had known Tim for much longer. And the other ebony had told her much about his 'family'- especially Richard. The two seemed to have an indescribable bond...

Then, the door was shoved open. In charged a red-head, his eyes wide and his nostrils flaring like a bull. Behind him was Tim- the older boy's eyes were full of compassion and worry.

They saw Richard at the same time, and Tim found himself holding the younger teen to his chest. Richard grabbed onto his foster-brother's vest in a death-grip, shaking violently as he tried to keep from crying.

"Who?" was all Jason asked, his face red and his knuckles white as he clutched at air. His fists were so tight that his finely manicured nails bit into the calluses on his palms, drawing the slightest of thin red blood.

"P-P-P-"

"Pete..." Jason snarled, his lip curling up.

Tim stroked Richard's hair, hushing him and gently rocking back and forth. Ms. Cain had left a few moments before, most likely to call Bruce or Alfred. The three brothers were the only ones in the room.

All at once, Jason spun on his heel.

"Where are you going-"

"To take out the da** trash that screwed with my _prihor_."

Tim tried to stand to hold back Jason, but a) Richard was still holding onto the older teen's vest harshly, and b) the peeved carrot-top was gone.

* * *

><p><em>The smaller ebony couldn't stop crying, his shoulders shaking and small whimpers coming from his lips. His body was shivering from the fever that came with his grief. Alfred had already helped the eight-year-old bathe and had placed him in some of Jason's clothes, though they were still rather large on him. His nose was running, and his eyes were blood-shot. His lips were dry and bleeding from cracked skin, and his tanned skin clashed against the paleness of his face.<em>

_Bruce was in the front room, talking with the Commissioner, and Jason was already tucked in bed. Damian was with his father, conveying what he had seen in as straight a voice as he could muster. Alfred had gone to argue with several of the police officers about getting Richard's things, especially his stuffed lion, _Leu_._

_That left Tim alone with the newly-orphaned boy._

_Richard had curled up into a ball at the foot of Bruce's bed, as the 'family' had only arrived moments before, and Alfred felt it was improper to just shove the boy into a room instead of gradually explaining to him that this was where he might be living for a while- or at least until the Circus took him back._

_But Tim knew that most likely wouldn't happen._

_When his parents had died, Tim had been sent to an orphanage, and wasn't even allowed to stay with his uncle. They had called him an 'alcoholic' or something like that, and wouldn't even allow the boy to see him. Richard didn't even have any family in the circus, so why would he get to stay there?_

_Tim sighed as he saw Richard's sobs slowing. 'Finally...' he thought to himself. Slowly, Tim made his way onto the wooden chest right next to the foot of Bruce's bed. Richard pulled away instantly. 'Wow... He's a lot more observant than I thought...'_

_Tim didn't make any moves. He just sat there until the silent sobs turned to snores._

* * *

><p>Jason thundered into the classroom, his eyes screaming bloody-murder and his chest heaving. Helena stood, but Jason was already forward-<p>

_BAM!_

He slammed Pete into the wall, making cracks spread in the plaster. Artemis's eyes widened, and she let out a soft gasp. She had seen Jason Todd in the papers, but his anger-management issues... Well, those had been in the tabloids.

The three boys who were Pete's 'posse' charged forward, but Jason turned and punched two of them out. Artemis felt her jaw drop slightly as she watched him kick the other in the gut, knocking the wind out of him and sending him across the room.

Then, the pissed red-head turned back to Pete, slamming him into the wall again. "Alright, _Arnold_... What did you say to my little brother?"

Pete didn't seem phased, and Artemis was almost sure he was a sociopath.

"I simply brought up Zucco's break-out."

Jason's eyes widened a tad, and he swore under his breath. Then, he pulled Pete forward until they were nose-to-nose. "I swear, Arnold, I won't _hesitate_ to put you in a body cast if you _ever_ mess with my little brother again..." He smirked. "In fact, I might just give you a little preview-"

"Jason," came a deep and angry voice.

Then, a hunky young man in a business suit and with slicked-back hair walked in. Or, more like sprinted. He grabbed Jason's wrist in a death-grip, his snarl lifting his upper lip. "Jason. Stop."

"But he-"

"I know. Let him go..." The ebony turned an icy gaze over to Pete, who- if Artemis peered harshly, she could see- shivered. The archer smirked.

There was a long, pregnant pause. Helena was still at the front of the class, in shock of what she should do or not do-

Jason pulled away, letting Pete drop to his knees. The young man- who Artemis now recognized as Damian Wayne- let out a sigh. Artemis could see the yearning in his eyes as he glared at Pete. He _wanted_ to put the football player in a body-cast, just like Jason.

Her smirk turned to a grin.

"Your bast*** of a little brother really needs to grow a pair."

Artemis mentally face palmed.

Jason whirled around and held Pete up into the wall's indention again, only this time- his fist collided perfectly with the brunette's jaw, emitting a loud _crack_ into the classroom. Helena was about to jump forward, but Artemis beat her to it.

"Hey!" she shouted, pulling the red-head off of Pete. Damian aided her cause with a bit less force. Pete was moaning, clutching his broken and bleeding jaw, as he sat on the floor. Artemis succeeded in pulling Jason away, then shoved him towards the door. "Hey, _genius_, you can't do that! Sure, he's a jerk, but you _broke_ his _jaw_-"

Jason broke her off with a glare, then spat at her feet. "Bug off, bi-"

"Jason."

Damian had stern eyes on his younger 'brother', a frown over his features. The fifteen-year-old was still glaring at Artemis, but Damian pulled him away, sending an apologetic glance towards the teacher. "I'm sorry-" Though his eyes still showed pride in his brother's actions. "We need to go."

And just like that, the brothers were gone.

* * *

><p>"<em>I'm Kat Grant with the news repo- here! I'm just getting some information... A convict, named Tony Zucco, who was charged with the murder of Mary and John Grayson, and the attempted murder of their young son, Richard Grayson, has recently broken out of prison-"<em>

Wally's jaw dropped, his eyes wide. He was in his Current Events class, doodling mindlessly as he ignored the gigantic, 70's-style TV. Then, he heard Robin's name, and his head popped up.

All of the students were ignoring the TV. After all, this was Central City, and they were watching Gotham news. It didn't apply to them.

A short, live video feed of Bruce Wayne appeared over the screen.

"_Mr. Wayne!" _shouted a reporter. _"Can I get a quote?"_

Wally didn't catch what Bruce said, but he assumed it wasn't very nice, as the reporter grinned. _"Can I quote you on that?"_

On screen, Damian charged past and jumped into the Porsche, leaving Bruce to deal with the reporters.

_Nice, Dami... Way to be a team-player._

Suddenly, the ginger's phone vibrated in his pocket. Eagerly, he flashed it out _(hehe)_ and flipped it open. _Man... I still have a flip-phone! I _really_ need to talk to Uncle B about an upgrade..._

There was a picture of Richard, clad in civvies and his signature glasses, and the message below, "_how fast can u b the manor?_"

Wally looked up at his teacher, who was snoring. "_gimme 5 min_"

* * *

><p>Bruce scowled as he pushed past the reporters, sliding into the passenger's side of Lucius's car. The old Black man ran a hand over his cropped, curly white hair, and revved the engine. "Damian went to pick up the boys." He pulled away, the engine roaring in the distance. Peering past his shoulder, Lucius sighed when he saw Bruce hunched over, massaging his temples. The billionaire's jaw was clenched tightly, his shoulders tense. "Do you want to go or meet them at the Ma-"<p>

Bruce's phone rang, and he whipped it out, answering instantly. "Bruce Wayne."

"_Bruce, it's Clark."_

Bruce growled. "What do you want?"

"_Bruce, there are reporters swarming the school. I can get the boys out, but it'll just cause another big uproar if you come."_

The man was about to object, but he was cut off. _"Bruce, trust me."_

Silence.

Pause.

"Fine. Tell Damian I'll meet them at home."

"_Got it. And, Bruce- don't do anything stupid."_

"No promises."

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry if anyone is OOC. Especially Bruce- I just love writing Daddy!Bats!<strong>

**Anyways, any questions, comments, praises- REVIEW!**

**Also, I have hero!names for Damian and Jason:**

**Nightwing and Red-Hood...**

**Any ideas for Tim? Preferrably something that's really in the comics, but it doesn't have to belong to him. EX: Secret or Arsenal (But not those) :))))**

**REVIEW!**


	5. Wally

**Didn't feel like Spellcheck or editing. So, you have this poop. :)**

**I WILL BE UPDATING DOTB NEXT!**

**Sorry it took so long, i own nothing, blah, blah, blah, i have to go pick up dog poop now... grrrrr...**

**WARNINGS: OOC. sorry. Deal with it. OH AAAAAND...**

**TO ALL FLAMERS: guess what, this story is AU, so no need to tell me... Smart-ones... :)**

* * *

><p><em>The boy was stoic as he moved around the kitchen, his padded footsies making a soft 'pat, pat, pat' on the tiles as he shuffled towards the kitchen cabinet. His long black hair fell to his shoulders, curling up in wisps and bouncing lightly. His eyes were still a crisp blue, bright and shining, but there was no joy in them. All joy and childish fondness of life was gone, replaced by pain and suffering that no eight-year-old should ever have to go through.<em>

_Damian sat at the table, expertly multitasking his Gameboy and Cap n' Crunch cereal. Tim was eating slowly, nervously fidgeting and looking over to the ebony in the kitchen. Jason was hanging onto Bruce's arm and giggling as the man (unknowingly) swung him back and forth; Bruce was too focused on Richard. And finally, Alfred was washing dishes as he watched the gypsy child aimlessly wander around the expanse of elaborate tiles and oaken cabinets, granite countertops and steel hanging racks._

"_Master Dick-"_

_The child jumped. He had a habit of doing that any time someone spoke his name. "_Da_?"_

_Alfred smiled gently. "Would you care for any assistance?"_

_Richard shook his head. "_Nu_."_

_He could speak English, Richard just cared more for Romanian. Bruce assumed it was because it was the language his mother spoke most often- according to the circus people._

"_Are you sure?" Bruce asked, eyebrows furrowed gently. He had been through this three times before, if in different aspects. Damian had gone through a five-month rampage of rage. Tim had been a crying, blubbering mess. Jason had been angry and violent, but also cried himself to sleep._

_Richard just…. was. He existed, but nothing more._

_Jason frowned and jumped down from his hold on Bruce's arm. "Hey! They're just trying to help!"_

_Richard didn't react. Bruce reached out to stop Jason, but he wasn't fast enough for the agile boy. Jason launched himself forward, past Alfred, and stood in front of Richard. "Hey! I'm talkin' to you!"_

_The younger boy stood upright and cast an innocent, unknowing, crushed look at the redhead. "_Scuze_, Jason."_

_Jason's eyes grew wide. Richard hadn't spoken any of their names since the guardianship papers had come in. "It's okay…" His face lit up. "Want some Cap n' Crunch?"_

_Richard frowned and tilted his head to the side, repeating the words. "Cap n' Crunch?" The unfamiliar name rolled off his tongue and forth from his lips._

"_Yeah. Cap n' Crunch."_

"_Cap n' Crunch?"_

"_Cap n' Crunch."_

_Then, Richard gave a semblance of a smile and nodded. "Cap n' Crunch, _va rog_."_

_Jason beamed. "I'm guessing that means please."_

* * *

><p>Clark practically tore the school apart when he saw Robin- no. Richard. He was Richard now; Richard, a sad, scared, and angry thirteen-year-old boy. The reporter remained a calm composure, even though the raging storms inside his chest refused to cease.<p>

Clark turned a corner-

And bumped head-first into Jason. "Hey! Watch where you're go- Clark?"

The reporter nodded, his spit-curl flapping against his forehead in a way that made Jason want to rip it off with his bare hands. "Jason. Where's Dick?"

Just then, Tim came around the corner, a death grip on his youngest brother's bicep. Richard's eyes were unfocused, and he seemed ready to faint.

Clark zoomed forward, grabbing Richard's other arm. Now closer, he could see the sweat pouring down the young teen's forehead, and his thick black eyelashes were falling onto blue eyes. "Dick? Dick, are you okay?"

"What do _you_ think?"

Clark turned and sent his own version of the Bat-glare towards Jason. The redhead glared back, easily shrugging away any discomfort. "His parents' murderer broke out of prison! Do you _think_ he's okay-"

_BLECH_

Jason and Clark simultaniously winced and turned to see-

Tim was pale-faced. "These are new shoes!"

Clark brushed off the comment. "He's in shock." The reporter put his arm around Richard's back, as his knees were about to give. "Bruce texted me. He's going to meet us at the Manor."

"Wally should be coming, too," Jason grounded out as he supported the ebony, who was still shell-shocked. It had been delayed, and was now taking full effect. "Let's get him home."

Clark nodded fiercely. "Stand behind me. We'll have to fight out way out."

Tim snorted. "Like usual."

* * *

><p>Wally was so freaked out that he reached the Manor even before Bruce.<p>

The speedster zoomed up to the front door, ignoring the fact that his shoes had been lost from his running at the speed of sound, and knocked rapid-fire.

_Bangbangbangbangbangbang- BANGBANGEBANGBANGBANG-_

An old man with withered skin and sad eyes answered, his mustache twitching with annoyance. "Master Wallace, however many times you knock, it will not effect how fast I can walk."

Wally brushed past Alfred with ease. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, Alf." He had to be careful to keep his words slow, despite how much he wanted to scream. "That rhymed, by the way."

A dinger went off, and Alfred straightened. "That would be the cookies."

Wally's eyes lit up, and Alfred couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head as he walked into the white-tiled kitchen. "Yes, Master Wallace, I made enough for you as well. I thought you might make an appearance... But, it will be several more minutes until the Masters return. I suggest you sit."

The ginger shook his head. "I can't hold still."

Alfred nodded respectively. "In that case, I suppose you wish for something to do." A duster and damp rag were handed to the teen, who sighed and whimpered at the same time. "The foyer is in need of a cleaning."

* * *

><p>By the time Wally was done, the cookies had cooled, but no one was back yet. Wally groaned, pulling on his cheeks so that his eyes drooped. "Master Wallace, unless you wish your face to be permantly frozen-"<p>

The front door opened, sending a beep throughout the Manor. In a blur of yellow and red, Wally was at the front door. It was Damian. The black-haired young man stepped in quickly, turning to allow Tim and Jason in. Between them, Richard looked ready to die- or at least faint. After them, to Wally's surprise, came Clark Kent, his glasses now hanging off from his suit front. His hair was askew, and he looked extremely flustered. "That was... Fun."

Jason scoffed as he led Richard into the nearest room- the downstairs parlor. The thirteen-year-old plopped down on the nearest chair, instantly pulling into his metaphorical shell, his knees tucked under his chin.

Wally had never seen his best friend this... vulnerable. It just _didn't happen_. He was Robin, the fearless Boy Wonder.

Then again, he was also Richard Grayson. A scared little boy...

The teen crossed over and sat down on the arm of the chair, pulling his friend to lean into his ribcage. Then, Richard broke down.

And wept.

Alfred entered, a red-faced and angry Bruce Wayne behind him. All of the 'Wayne' boys (minus Richard) looked towards him, their expressions separately intense. Tim looked sad, his whole face- from the downcast eyes, to the fallen lips- screamed of depression and sympathy for his baby brother. Damian looked ready to kill someone- Zucco, most likely. Jason was biting his lower lip, flipping his knife open and shut, open and shut, his eyes glazed over and eyebrows folded together in an angry scowl.

Nothing had to be said. The boys all left, Clark following. He stopped short, though, to stand in front of Bruce. They whispered quickly, casting glances towards Wally and Richard. Oh, what the speedster wouldn't _give_ to have super-hearing just then...

Clark nodded, then turned to face Richard, who was still looking at the cold and empty fireplace. Clearing his throat uneasily, he said, "Goodbye, Richard. I- I'll see you soon."

And he left.

Bruce walked forward, his lifted shoes leaving ominous clanks on the wooden planks. He walked slowly, and Wally knew that Bruce was trying to scare him off.

His grip on Richard's shoulders tightened as the teen's cries turned to a stoic face. Wally snorted. _Of course... He won't let _Bruce _see him cry._

The billionaire paused in front of the red velvet chair, and Wally was sure that he was about to preach from his pulpit.

Instead, he bent down and pulled Richard away from Wally and into a hug.

_Well, then... Now might be a good time to leave Daddy-Bats alone..._

Wally slowly crept out of the room, closing the creaky door as he went.

* * *

><p><em>The eight-year-old growled as Damian laughed, his cocky tunes echoing through the Bat-Cave. "C'mon, kid! Show me what you got!"<em>

_With that, Richard charged forward with a tiny roar, and the two began again._

_It was a quick spar that ended with Richard on the ground, angry tears in his eyes. Damian scoffed. "Hey, you wanted this."_

_Richard grimaced. It was true. So, he pulled himself up, tiny shoulders heaving, bruised ribs protesting, and readied himself in a fighting stance. "_Adu-l_..."_

_Damian cocked an eyebrow, and Richard grinned eerily. "Bring it."_

_Damian grinned._

_That was the first time Damian lost to a younger fighter._

_And it wouldn't be the last._

* * *

><p><strong>Don't you like the flash-backs?<strong>

**:)**

**OKAY: I know it's going annoyingly and painfully slow, and, yes, this chapter was CRAP and a filler... I'll admit it... But the plot- MAIN plot- is revealed in the next chapter. so stay with me, people! (Oh, and YJ comes in SOOOON!)**

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